Can't Touch This! (Oorth's Flight!)

The waiting blue was a stark contrast to the Rising pink.

Where Oorth was all energy and joy, Eondith was silent; calculating. He watched her every move carefully. Everything about him was completely still, building up the energy for when he needed it. His intentions were far too impersonal, though. He wanted Oorth solely for her body, and not for her mind. He would not argue his point, but if he did, his grounds would be simply primal. That was all it was, and all it needed to be. Dragons flew to mate. Dragons mated for the sake of mating. Humans, on the other hand, mated to love. It was a whole different matter. He didn't need to have a deeper, more emotional connection to it. His body wanted this. Both he and Oorth were welling up with flightlust, and that was all that mattered. Oorth's crash didn't even compute with him. That didn't matter. Only the flightlust did.

He didn't bother to warn R'fus - his rider already knew. As Oorth began her Flight and Eondith followed, silent as the deepest darkest corners of the lower caverns, R'fus acted the opposite. He was still. Rigidly still. He knew how Eondith was, what with all the chasing, but usually it didn't bother him. It was bothering him now, though. He knew exactly why, too. Kio. Sharding Kio. Everything was sharding about Kio now, and he was in denial about it. It was wrong, it was weird, it was just... stupid. Plain stupid. The impossibility of such an asshole having such an influence on his life was appalling. It wasn't happening. It just couldn't be, because it was impossible. However, this 'impossible' event was keeping him in his room. He didn't want to leave. He'd stay there, deal with the flightlust by himself if he had to, and that was that. He... wanted Kio. That's it. Oh, Faranth damn it. "Yer such a baby," he snarled to himself, and got up and left. Staying was ridiculous and only confirmed what he was trying to disprove.

He didn't go into Pratyba's weyr, though. He stayed just outside the door, pressed up against the cold stone wall. He didn't really want to go in. He didn't really want Eondith to win. This was odd, though, because he was used to it. He was used to Flights and what they entailed, but somehow this was eating him up. Rhyolith's Flight hadn't done this to him, even. Why? It was too confusing. Too confusing-- oh. There he went. He was Eondith, now. Entirely Eondith.

The blue pushed himself. Oorth, the sole object of his strongest desires, was ahead of him and gaining speed. It wouldn't do to fall behind. His chances would be ruined, then. He had to keep up with the rest of the pack, which was currently a purple and a brown. The fact that both outranked him didn't matter. This wasn't about endurance or power. Oorth was fast. It was about speed. As the smallest of the current three, Eondith had a bit of an advantage, or so he'd like to think. He was a blue. He was the balance between stamina and agility. He could catch her.

He would.

He was probably far too serious about this. He was far too serious about everything, really. Anything Eondith did was done with a purpose. Otherwise, it wasn't worth his time. He wasn't playing around here. Oorth might be, but the blue definitely wasn't. He was dead serious. Even with two sub-kings as his opponents, there was nothing in his mind that hinted that it was useless or futile. He was smaller - he had speed. They were large and had stamina. They'd just have to see which was more important.

The forest barely registered to him. He didn't hesitate at all. Wherever Oorth went, he followed, swift and careful like his small, streamlined body allowed for. The trees in his way weren't fun. They were just a challenge. It seemed, though, that Oorth was specifically darting through places big enough for the brown and purple that also followed, which just made it even easier for Eondith. He liked being small. He liked being fast. The best way to do anything important was to do it quickly.

Back near Pratyba's weyr, R'fus-Eondith had been found out. The human's thoughts stirred briefly - worried and reluctant ones - but the dragon was the dominant personality. This was Oorth's rider. His should follow her. The cheer in Pratyba-Oorth's voice did not go unnoticed. It was rather unexpected, actually. He wasn't exactly used to dealing with such happy personality types. It was actually a little refreshing, but it's not like R'fus-Eondith's face would show it, and nor would his voice. Just like the dragon, the rider was silent and serious. He simply allowed himself to be dragged inside the weyr, reacting no further than that.

Eondith's lightning-fast reflexes proved a bit of a drawback. Oorth had rocketed upward and he was quick to follow. The same went for when she dove back down and then climbed back up again. It had slowed him down, really, and he probably looked ridiculous, switching direction of flying so quickly. Briefly, his teeth were bared in a snarl at his own delay. Oorth knew what she was doing, so her switches were swift. Eon, on the other hand, was left to react only after she did. It had put him behind.

No matter, though. It's not like he would let it get to him. When she was flying decidedly upward, he followed suit, wings propelling him upward. There wasn't room for self-pity in a Flight. There was only room for determination. He just had to follow. He had to. He wouldn't let himself do anything else. All he wanted was Oorth. His mind and eyes fixated on her, Eondith pushed himself. There was no way he would go out without a spectacular, passionate fight.

She had trilled to him! Eondith felt something swell in his chest. It was a warm feeling, like heated syrup in the morning or a soft summer day. The poetry came from his human half, he supposed. Anything ridiculous like that was always R'fus' area - Eondith would have no such association with useless things like that, unless he had a right and proper reason to. He got very little joy out of doing things for nothing. Sometimes, though, he would do seemingly useless things, but that's only because he would have invented a solid reason for it on his own. Currently, he was inventing one such reason.

The brown obviously had a leg up right now. Eondith had only spared one fleeting glance at Mikidith's cloud handiwork, because it would do no good to give any more attention than that, but it was obviously Oorth was infatuated by it. That put the blue on edge. Most flights were purely about speed and strength. This one, however, was turning into an art contest and he wasn't going to be the only one who missed out on it. Unlike Mikidith, who did it out of the blue, and Daedalouth who followed out of competition, Eondith was left to follow out of trend. It was what everyone was doing. If he did not take part, he would slip down and rank. He was already lower as it stood, being blue while the others were all sub-kings.

It was just logical to show off, too.

So he acted. He was the fastest, thanks to his size. He could afford to lose a bit of his lead. He could make it back up. With all the energy in his chest pent up from staying silent the entire flight, he let loose a carefully controlled whistle, in a short little melody. With one powerful thrust from his wings, careful maneuvering, and a twisting body, he spiraled his body through a loop-de-loo before tucking his wings and dropping at a forty-five degree angle. At first, it seemed like suicide, but Eondith knew what he was doing. He had planned it out. He did everything with purpose.

Eyes darted around the trees. It was late autumn, and most leaves had fallen to make way for winter. However, a few trees still clung to their precious ambered leaves, and that was Eondith's goal. Swiftly passing by, he snapped up a branch in his jaws. With the speed he was playing at, it came free immediately, though with a bit of a lurch. Immediately he climbed again, pushing himself to his utter limits to win the lovely lady his heart so beat for. Behind him, the leaves from the branch between his teeth streamed out in a ribbon of orange and red. They were all gone fast, and hopefully the effect had been seen, but he wasted no more time. Dropping the unnecessary weight that was the branch, he pushed up to fall in with the other suitors.

R'fus-Eondith seemed like he was beginning to relax. It was hard to tell, for at first the signs were faint, but the infectious energy Pratyba-Oorth was radiating was getting to him. Eondith's addition to the festival of stunts in the air was also affecting him. He felt a little lighter, a little less bogged-down by all his fickle worries, and a little happy. However, the faint smile that emerged and the soft eyes that followed Pratyba-Oorth did not compare to anyone else's happiness. He was still partly Eondith, of course, and Eondith was all concentration. His body fueled his every move. He lusted for Oorth like his life depended on it. Briefly, too, his mind interjected and pointed out that it would be good for His, as well. No one knew R'fus' stress like Eondith, and the blue knew how ridiculous it was. It wasn't necessary. He needed to let loose of his tension. What better way than this?

So he flew. He may not have been the flashiest in colour, or the biggest or the highest ranked, or the cutest, but he flew. He had speed and agility on his side, with a nice dose of stamina, and a small streamlined body. He could do this. The only question was whether or not Oorth would take him, but he was hoping with all of his being that she would. He could barely contain this need for her. Though he was silent, his heart sang for her. Every beat of it was for her. Every pump of his wings was for her. He, in his entirety, was for her, if she would have him.